Sorrow (2002 Archive Pull)
by MichelleKelly
Summary: An old fic pulled from my archives- 17 years old. This story revolves around Bakura and how he copes with the Thief King inside of him (edited to fit within ff guidelines.)


Archive fic-Sorrow-6/11/2002, Digitally uploaded 6/16/2014 FF upload 3/27/2019

I wrote this 17 years ago, at age 13.(in other words, this fic is older than most of you) I am only pulling this fic out of my archives to prove that I wasn't always such a fluid writer. This is pretty much where I started. Time, effort, and practice are what lead to improvement, and without further adieu, I give you this crapfest. (typed up Verbatim)

Bakura stared at the fading scratches on his wrists. Misty tears filmed over his eyes. He had hurt himself so many times against his will. The salt water drops began to course down his pale cheeks. He turned to glance in the mirror, his pale face tear streaked red. In a hasty thought he ripped off the sennen ring and hurled it across the room. He slammed his fist in to the reflective glass, glass flew everywhere.

Bakura turned on the hot water all the way so the scorching water scalded his pale skin. His hand gently brushed his left arm. His fingernails drove into the scar, raising blood which water mixed with and swirled pink down the drain.

He stared at the ceiling from his bed. A white towel swathed about his slim pale hips. He just didn't care anymore Ryou-No Bakura (Yes, I KNOW that's horribly incorrect, but I'm typing this verbatim) had tormented him so much. So many time he could no longer stand it. He bore so many scars all very recent, all still painful. Bakura rolled to his side. He had taken all of this abuse and he had said nothing- NOTHING. He had taken it like a man, the scorch torture, the cuts, the lacerations. He had been through all of it and yet he knew there was more to come. All due to his pendant, his sacred pendant. All he had left was that pendant! And yet, it was the cause of his torment.

Bakura got up and dressed, then he laid back down. He had no reason to live. He just gave up. He didn't care anymore, he wanted to die. Bakura picked up the knife and held the blade to his wrist. Thoughts swirled in his mind. Should he kill himself? Would it matter? Would anyone care? No, no one would care.

Amane, she was dead because of this and there was no one left. NO ONE. He slashed his wrist and screamed in pain. Blood dripped onto the carpet which absorbed the drops like a sponge would. He dropped the knife and let his wrist bleed freely for a while. The pain, was it good or bad? He didn't know.

(content redacted)

He stared at hi freshly bandaged wrist. Why did I do that? He thought. Blood seeped through the bandage quickly. Bakura didn't care, why should he? He had no reason to, at least not anymore.. The pale boy took the knife and threw it into the wall before he broke to tears. He was so hurt, so abused and yet there was no one who cared. No one who cared anymore. They were all dead or far away.

" I see you're finally turning into a distressed host. Took long enough" Yami No Bakura (for some reason it's different here, I don't know) spoke to him in the other half of his mind.

"Go to hell," Bakura replied.

" Been there, done that," the old thief sneered.

"Just leave me alone," Bakura screamed.

"Why? I enjoy your torment," he cooed.

"You evil son of a b-"

"Why thank you, such a compliment," Yami no Bakura had cut him off.

"Why are you doing this?" Bakura asked.

"That's a good question."

"Why wont you let me die?" Bakura asked.

"I need a host body, that's why my puppet."

"No! NO! I'M NOT YOUR PUPPET" Bakura screamed (in all caps)

"Oh yes you are, Remember battle city?"

"You are so cold hearted"

"I know,"Yami no Bakura replied.

Later that night Bakura wrote in his diary as usual, yet in big black letters were the words: I WANT TO DIE. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to ending his life. Why not? He asked himself, is there someone who cares for me? No, there wasn't.

(redaction)

In a split second Bakura's persona changed to Yami-No-Bakura.

A/N So, someone bitched and reported this fic because I used a few lines from a song, so I took it out and reuploaded it, again. At the time I didn't realize the song was in the fic, so I was unaware I was breaking the rules. shit happens, and things get overlooked. When I do archive pulls, it's verbatim- and considering I only ever penned 2 ½ song fics in my younger years before this rule was in effect, it's not at the forefront of my mind. Find me on tumblr as michellekellyff. See you in the next fic.


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